Jaune ate the jabberwalker and now he miss is the. It and the closet thing to it is grim could you do something with this im interested in seeing your take
Jaune stood over the dying Jabberwalker. It let out sorrowful, almost fearful words that meant one thing, as was its behavior, even unto its death. Its lanky limbs curled unto itself, arching its back in a curve that reminded Jaune of a dead cat he'd seen in his youth. A youth now long past since his arrival into the Ever After. But such thoughts drifted away as he listened to the beast wheeze it's final words.
Cold. The Jabberwalker was cold. It only made sense, as it's ichorian blood spilled like an ink from an old, fleshy, emacited bottle of an apex predator that skulked the Ever After. Soon it would die and be taken by the tree and return in a new, more terrifying form than before. The impossible had been accomplished and now this world will demand balance.
Suddenly, Jaune's body began to feel very hot. Like fire threatened to burst from his chest, his body became wracked by aches and pains much greater than his aged body had ever endured. He fell to his knees, his eyes darting everywhere for relief from this inferno ablaze within his entrails.
"Bitter... Boreal... Brumal..."
Cold! The Jabberwalker was cold! It made sense because it was dying! But Jaune had to live! He had to see Team RWBY again, no matter what it costed him! No matter who it costed him.
Faster than his mind could register, his hands dug deep into the fatal wound left by his rusted blade. Tearing flesh and sinew with animalistic fury, he buried his face into the open gash, gnashing his teeth at the bleeding flesh even as the cries changed temporarily from cold to new meaning...
Jaune continued to dig deeper into the monster, his aching pain soothed little by little as cold viscera continued to fill his mouth, fall to his gut, and paint his face. Tearing himself free, he unleashed a horrible cry to the heavens that sent a shiver through the very beings of every entity across the Ever After.
At that moment, Jaune Arc had died. No longer did he have any cares to worry about. No fears of Grimm or Salem. No burdens of leadership or holding onto his past failures. Finally, truly, and utterly, Jaune Arc had died and was free...
...and in his death, The Rusted Hunter began his prowl.
